Pasta Is My Cure!
by MoonlightStar400
Summary: Italy has a fever. Germany is there to treat him. What could possibly go wrong? Gerita. No flames please.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N): My first Hetalia Fic. If anything is wrong, please tell me and I will fix it.**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters, they all belong to Hidekaz Himaruya**

**Pasta is My Cure!**

**Chapter One**

"It's over 40 cersius..." Japan said, looking at the thermometer he was holding, and then down at the high-fevered pasta loving Italian.

"Well, that's not bad is it?" America asked, looking at the other countries. "I mean, it's _only _40 degrees... Oh wait, that's cold... So Italy has a cold? What is a cold anyways?" England scoffed, and facepalmed by the American's stupidness.

"That's over 100 Fahrenheit, you git." England snapped, "That is bad. That means that Italy has a fever." America blinked, and started to scratch his head.

"Huh, so it's _not _a cold..." America said, which then made England strain himself from hitting the dirty-blond country.

"Ve, I don't feel so well..." Italy muttered, placing a hand on his head, "It's so warm..." Japan looked down at his friend worriedly.

"Maybe we should go get some healing herbs from my country, aru." China suggested.

"Non, what about moi? I'll take care of him~!" France said, going over to the Italian but a certain German knocked him over. France looked up to see Germany.

"No vay!" Germany said, glaring down at the Frenchman, "Italy is my friend so I'll take care of him!"

"Makes sense, da." Russia said, "Besides, China can't do it." The Russian placed a hand over China's shoulder.

"Why is that, aru?" China asked, looking at Russia, raising an eyebrow and looking at the crazy-mind Russian.

"Because you'll be one with Mother Russia, da." Russia said, looking China with a creepy smile, and a dark blue aura around him. China then got a bit creeped out out.

The Chinese man tried to back away, but the Russian follows him. "Aiya..." China whimpered, slightly horrified of the tall man.

"Now all of you, get out." Germany said, looking at the Allies and at Japan, "I'll be taking care of Italy."

"Quoi? But I want to be with Italy!" France exclaimed, going to the Italian. "Italy, say something!"

"Ve, big brother France... I really need my rest..." Italy murmured, "I'll see you when I get better, okay?" France sniffed, and grabbed his hand.

"If Germany does anything to you, call me!" France said, concerning over the nation.

"I think it's the other way around, frog." England said, having his arms crossed, and smirking when the Frenchman shot a glare at him.

"Your not in this conversation, black sheep of Europe!" France exclaimed at him, shaking the Englishman around the neck. Germany sighed as the two then began to fight and argue with each other.

After a few minutes, everyone left, leaving only Germany and Italy alone. Italy had his eyes closed, and he was really warm and was breathing unsteadily. The German was sitting next to him, in a chair.

Germany looked at Italy, and held his hand. "Italy, are you okay?" He asked, looking at the Italian. Italy opened his eyes slowly, and smiled softly.

"Ve... Germany... I want some pasta..."

"Nein Italy, I don't zhink that vill help..."

"But I'm hungry..."

"Something ozher zhan pasta."

Italy sighed, and turned his head. Germany blinked, and waited for Italy to respond. Veneziano coughed, and closed his eyes again. And with that Italy took a nap.

Germany sighed, and got up from the chair, left the room, also leaving the Italian sleeping.

_Later_

"So how's Itary's fever?" Japan asked, taking a sip of his green tea. "Is he feering arr right?" Germany looked over at the Japanese man, and shook his head. They were at the dining room, in Italy's house, both sitting down in chairs.

"Nein, his fever just keeps on getting higher and higher." Germany responded, sighing and placing his elbow to the table, "I feel a bit vorried for him now."

Japan nodded, "If this doesn't get any better, we must take him to the hospitar." Japan sipped the green tea, and looked over at Germany again. "You know that, right?"

Germany nodded, and looked over at Italy's room that was behind him. Japan looked over to the room too, and waited for the cheerful Italian to jump off the bed and call their names. But nothing happened.

"It's veird vizhout Italy doing something." Germany said, shaking his head. Japan nodded, and took another long sip of his tea.

"Werr, I must be going." Japan said, getting up from the chair that he was sitting. "Prease take care of Itary untir he's better." Germany nodded, and with that, the Japanese man left Germany by himself.

Germany got up from the chair, and went over to the sick Italian's door. He opened it, and looked over to Italy, that was in bed.

Italy was sweating, but was breathing more steadily than before. His face was really warm, and was wrapped with blankets. Germany looked at Italy, and went to his side.

"Italy, vake up." Germany said, shaking Italy softly, "Time to get up." Italy woke up, and opened his eyes slowly. He looked at the German, and smiled softly.

"Ve, morning Germany." Italy said, sitting up slowly. He wiped his forehead, and kept on smiling. "What time is it?"

"It's not morning, Italy." Germany stated, "It's zhe afternoon." Italy blinked, and this time, had his eyes closed.

"Oh..." He said, but then his stomach started to growl. Italy looked down, and touched his stomach. "Ve, I'm hungry. What's there to eat, Germany?" Italy asked cheerfully.

Germany blinked, and turned his head. "Um... Zhere's wurst, beer, and-"

"I want pasta." Italy said happily, smiling. "I really want some pasta, Germany!" The German shook his head.

"Italy, ve've been over zhis, no pasta." Germany said, "Besides, I don't zhink zhere is left in zhis house." Italy's face slumped, and his stomach started to growl more. Germany took a deep breath, and got up.

"Ve? Where are you going, Germany?" Italy asked, looking at him, who was walking to the door. "You're not going to leave me, right?" Germany opened the door, and turned his head to meet his eyes with the Italian's closed ones.

"I'm going to buy some pasta." Germany said softly, a faint blush showing in his cheeks, "I'll be back shortly." With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Italy by himself.

Italy sniffed, and slumped back down to his bed. Italy held the sheets tight, and breathed heavily. "Thank you, Germany..." Italy said, smiling and started to drift to sleep slowly.

**Thank you for reading. More will come. Reviews are welcome in this fic. I will update every Wednesday until I finish this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N): Thank you so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! Here's the second chapter! WARNING: This chapter has some foul-mouth language it in**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya**

**Pasta is My Cure!**

**Chapter Two**

"I vould like to buy some pasta." Germany said to the person working at the food market. The store was a few blocks away from Italy's house, so he walked from there to the store. "The finest one you got."

The employee nodded, and showed Germany the way of the pasta section. Once the employee showed him where the aisle of where the pasta was, Germany's eyes widened.

The aisle that the employee showed Germany had stacks of pasta everywhere, colors of green, red, white, or together! The German felt his left eye twitch, and stared at the aisle. _Now vhat type of pasta does he like? _Germany asked to himself, holding two brands of boxes.

"Mein gott... Isn't it all zhe same?" Germany asked to himself, looking confused. Germany looked at all of the pasta, from top to bottom, and took a deep breath. _The price is really high zhough... _Germany thought, looking at the price.

After a few forty minutes of shopping, Germany regretted to walk from Italy's house to the store. Why? Because he had to carry more than twenty bags of different types of pasta in both hands. _Vas it really necessary to buy ALL zhe pasta? _Germany thought to himself, feeling a bit embarrassed as a few people looked at him weirdly or chuckle.

One he was at the house again, Germany placed all the bags into the kitchen, and looked through all of them. "Hm... Now vhich vould Italy like to eat?" Germany asked, holding the favorite food of the Italian.

"I need help..." Germany said, looking down and getting out his phone.

_Later_

"What do you want, potato bastard?" Romano asked, his arms crossed and glaring at the German. "I hope this is important." Germany nodded, and let the Italian in the house.

Germany showed him the way to the kitchen, and Romano's eyes widened by the sight of many boxes full of pasta. "Dio mio, where's the tomatoes!?" Romano asked, turning his head left and right.

"Ja... I need help..." Germany muttered, scratching the back of his head nervously and chuckling. "I vant to make some pasta for Italy..." Romano's eyes stared at Germany's eyes, and he glared.

"You want to make pasta, bastard?" Romano asked, crossing his arms. "Well, you got the pasta all right-"

"By zhe way," Germany interrupted the hot-tempered Italian, "Vhat type of pasta does he like?" Romano, being the foul-mouth he is, cursed at the German.

"Don't fucking interrupt me, you potato bastard!" Romano fumed, shouting at him. "How can my fratello stand you?" Germany sighed, and let the southern part of Italy to calm down. After a few minutes, Romano settled down, and went to the fridge.

"I'm pretty sure that my fratello has some tomatoes," Romano said, searching, "Can't make pasta without tomatoes." Germany nodded, and sat down at the dining table. After a few minutes, Romano shut the fridge door hard, and cursed under his breath.

"Vhat's vrong?" Germany asked, looking at South Italy confusedly. Romano clutched his fists, and shook his head.

"He forgot to buy tomatoes!" Romano exclaimed, almost waking up Italy, who was taking a nap after Germany had left before. "That bastard! Now I have to call Spain to get some for me!" Romano said, getting out his phone and calling Spain.

After a few seconds, a man on the other side of the phone answered. "¿Qué pasa, Romano?" Spain asked, yawning as he was waking up from his siesta. Romano, being Romano, shouted at the Spaniard.

"Get your lazy ass here!" Romano shouted, "Bring tomatoes as well!" Spain groaned, and held his now hurting ear.

"¿Porque? What's wrong?" Spain asked, getting up from his bed. Romano looked at the phone, and then at Germany.

"You called me so explain it to him, you bastard!" Romano shouted, "I don't even know what's going on!" Germany nodded, and grabbed Romano's phone.

"Hello Spain," Germany said, clearing his throat, "Ve need you here. You see, Italy has a fever and-"

"¿¡QUÉ?! Ita-chan has fever?!" Spain interrupted at the German, "I'll be right there!"

Germany nodded, and before Spain could finish the call, Romano shouted into the phone. "Don't forget the tomatoes, bastard!"

_Beep!_

The call ended, and they hope that Spain would come and help out with Italy. Seriously, all of this happened just because Germany couldn't make pasta for our sick Italian.

Romano looked at Germany, and stared at him. "You never said that my fratello was sick. If you told me at the phone, I would've brought some tomatoes, you potato bastard!" Germany held the bridge of his nose, and nodded as the Italian scolded at him.

In the sick Italian's room, Veneziano woke up, and rubbed his right eye. "Ve? What's with the commotion?" Italy asked, getting all the blankets off of his warm body. Italy got up, and was about to go to the door, but then layed back down to the bed. _Bad idea... _Italy thought, feeling the warmth in his forehead again. _Very bad idea..._

"I didn't vant you to vorry." Germany confessed, "It's seems though as if you don't trust me with your bruder."

"Damn right you are!" Romano's voice exclaimed. Germany tried to calm down the Italian by explaining why he called him.

"I just needed to know vhat sort of pasta he likes..."

"The hell should I know?"

"You're Italian! You're his bruder! You should know vhat he eats!"

"Fratello never tells me what sort of pasta he eats, you potato bastard!"

Germany growled, and tried to calm down himself. "I should've just asked in zhe phone..." Germany told to himself. _But zhen again... I don't even know hov to make pasta..._ Germany sighed in defeat. "Vhatever." Germany said, shaking his head. "I'm going to check on Italy."

The German then went to Italy's room, with Romano right behind him. "I have to see my fratello myself to see how he is." Romano told Germany, "That bastard doesn't know how to help himself." Germany didn't know if he could agree or disagree, so he said nothing.

Once Germany opened the door, it showed Italy in his bed, blankets on top of him. "Ve, hey Germany!" Italy exclaimed, smiling softly. He then noticed his older brother. "Ciao, fratello!" Romano then went to Italy's side, and stared at him.

"How are you doing, fratello?"

"Ve, I'm doing fine!"

"Did the potato bastard do anything to you?"

"Vhat?" Germany asked, looking at Romano is disbelief. Italy, not understanding the question, just smiled.

"Why yes fratello!" Italy chirped, "He took care of me, that's for sure!" Romano rolled his eyes, and was going to respond to him, until somebody knocked on the door. "Ve, who's that?" Italy asked, hearing the door knock.

"That must be Spain." Germany said, "I'll go get him." Germany went outside of Italy's room, and opened the front door. It then showed the tanned Spaniard, panting and holding a basket full of tomatoes.

"Where is he?" Spain finally asked, gasping for air, "I came running all the way from my house to get here." Germany grabbed the basket of tomatoes, helping the Spaniard.

"He's right there." Germany said, pointing at the room. Spain nodded, and jogged towards the Italian's room. There, it showed the two brothers bickering.

"You should've told me you got a fever, idiota!"

"Ve, I'm sorry fratello..."

"You should be! I didn't even fucking know until the potato bastard told me!" Romano scolded at Italy. Veneziano nodded, and then turned his head towards the door. Spain was there, and Italy began to smile again.

"Ve, hi big brother Spain!" Italy exclaimed, "How are you doing?" Spain smiled at the Italian, and hugged him.

"Hola, Ita-chan." Spain murmured, happy that Veneziano was doing fine. "How are you feeling?" Italy smiled, and answered to the Spaniard.

"I'm feeling fine!" Italy exclaimed, "Though, I don't feel so well..." After that, his stomach growled, and Italy held his stomach. "I'm hungry..." Spain smiled, and ruffled up the Italian's hair.

"Don't worry, big brother Spain is here." Spain joked, and smiled at Veneziano. Romano looked at his brother, and another growl came in Italy's stomach again.

Romano got up, and went to the German. "You made my little fratello starve?!" Romano growled, "He's starving! He looks like he hasn't eaten anything for ages!" Germany sweat-dropped, and shook his head.

"Nein, he just ate two hours ago..."

"That's too long, you potato bastard!" Romano exclaimed, "No wonder he's hungry!"

Germany tried to respond back, but then Romano acted first before him. "What are you doing?" Germany asked, seeing Romano grabbing the basket of tomatoes from his hands, and going towards the kitchen.

"I'm going to make pasta for my fratello." Romano answered, washing his hands. "It seems though as if he never ate anything in forever." Germany tried to explain again, but Romano just ignored him.

**Spain and Romano are here! What will happen to Italy? Reviews are welcomed in this story. I couldn't wait to write, so I started right after I finished the first chapter, and so yeah... I probably might update tomorrow or Saturday. If I make any mistakes, please tell me and I will change it.**

**~MoonlightStar400**


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N): Thanks again for the reviews! Here's the third chapter! WARNING: Some cursing will be in here, mostly from Romano**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya**

**Pasta is My Cure!**

**Chapter Three**

As Romano began to cook in the kitchen, Germany went to Italy's room to see how he was. When he got there, Spain was there, talking to the Italian man. "So Ita-chan, how is it being sick?" Spain asked, slightly worried. Italy just smiled, and responded to him in his cheery voice.

"It's not so bad, big brother Spain!" Italy exclaimed, "But that means I don't have to go to World Conferences, and that's good!" Spain chuckled, and ruffled up Italy's hair.

Spain then noticed Germany, and smiled at him. "He's doing fine." Spain said, smiling widely. "By the way, where's Romano?"

"He's making some pasta for Italy." Germany explained. Spain nodded, and got up from his seat. Spain walked past where the German was, and told him something before he left.

"I'll leave you with Ita-chan. I'll see what's Roma's doing." Spain said, chuckling a little and going towards the kitchen. Spain closed the door behind him, and went to the foul-mouthed Italian.

Germany and Italy were left alone, and it became a bit silent. Germany went to the seat where Spain was, and waited for anybody to speak up first. Italy was the first to speak up. "Hey Germany, I haven't seen you since I took a siesta." Italy said, his eyes closed and smiling.

Germany smiled to himself, and sat down next to Italy. "Vell, I vas buying somezhing for you." Italy tilted his head slightly, and looked a tad confused.

"Ve? What is it, Germany?"

"I vanted to make some pasta for you..." Germany admitted, a light blush showing across his face. Italy noticed this, and chuckled lightly.

"Germany, you don't have to do that for me." Italy said, smiling at the German. Italy's stomach then grumbled again, this time loudly. Italy then felt a quick rush of heatness going to his forehead, and he placed a hand in his head.

"Ugh..."

Germany noticed this and looked at the Italian worriedly. "Italy? Vhat's vrong?" Germany asked, "Do you need some medicine?" Italy shook his head, and tried to force a smile. But instead, a quivery smile was formed.

"It's... It's okay Germany..." Italy said quickly, "I guess that my fever came back again..." Germany blinked, and placed a hand in the Italian's forehead. Italy felt his forehead cool when Germany placed his hand there, and began to blush lightly.

"Germany..." Italy began to say, but the German cut him off.

"You should rest more, Italy."

"Ve? Why?"

Germany took his hand away from Italy's forehead. Veneziano felt a bit dissapointed, the coolness of Germany's hand wasn't in his forehead anymore. "Your fever is still high. I'll check on you later." Germany got up from his seat, and went to he door.

He then opened it, and Italy began to speak up. "You'll come back, right?" Germany stopped on his tracks, and looked at the auburn headed Italian. Germany smiled lightly, and nodded.

"Yes Italy, I'll come back. Don't vorry, now go to sleep." Germany turned off the lights, and the light in the window only showed in Italy's room. Germany closed the door, and Italy was by himself again.

Italy yawned, and his stomach began to growl really loudly. "I'm so hungry..." Italy mumbled to himself, going to sleep once again, and starving (The poor guy...).

Germany went to the kitchen, only to find the Spaniard and Italian arguing over something. "Tomato bastard, let me do it!" Romano exclaimed, garbbing something from Spain, "I know how to do it, I don't need your help!"

"But Roma," Spain began to say, trying to grab the object from South Italy's hand, "Your doing it all wrong!" Spain successfully grabbed it, and Romano soon got pissed.

"Bastard! Give that to me!"

"¡No! I'll do it!" Spain shouted back, "Ita-chan likes my cooking better!"

"He never eats your food, you fucking tomato bastard!"

"Oh yes he does, you just don't see him!"

"Vhat is going on?!" Germany asked, getting inbetween to two of them. Romano glared at the Spaniard, while Spain was holding the object protectively in his hands.

The Italian then started to point at the Spaniard. "This stupid bastardo won't let me do the cooking!" Romano exclaimed, "I already cutted the tomatoes, just give it to me dammit!"

"No!" Spain responded, shaking his head, "I want to help too! But you won't let me!" Romano soon got angry again, but Germany held him back before he could touch the brunette.

"Alright, alright," Germany said, holding back Romano, "Vhat about _I _do it my myself?" The two brunettes stared at him. Blinked, and stared.

"You're serious?" Romano asked, calming down from his little outburst. "You think I should let _you _cook pasta for my fratello?" Germany nodded, and Spain then looked down to the object in his hands.

"Ja, I don't see the problem." Germany insisted, not trying to get into a fight with the Italian, "Let me do the cooking from now on, and you can work things out with Spain." Romano growled, and crossed his arms.

"No! I'm not talking to that tomato bastard!" Romano exclaimed, shaking his head, "He got me mad once, and I won't listen to him!" Spain chuckled at this, and went to him. The brunette placed a hand on Romano's shoulder, and smiled at him.

"Aw, come on. We have to work things out, Roma." Spain said, poking the Italian's cheek, "Let Germany do the cooking, si?" Romano glared at the Spaniard, but took a deep breath.

"Fine," He said, a light blush showing across his face, "Just because Spain and I have to work things out, not because I want to, got that potato bastard?!" Germany nodded, and Spain and South Italy went somewhere else.

Germany pulled up his sleeves, and looked at the kitchen counter table. The tomatoes were all cutted, and only one box of pasta was shown. The German grabbed it, and looked at its name. "Alright, so zhis is zhe one..." He muttered, and placed it back to the kitchen table.

He then got all the things ready, the pot full of water is now boiling, and placed the pasta into the pot. He then blended all of the tomatoes in the blender, and things moved smoothly for him. After a few minutes, the pasta was now ready, and took it out of the pot.

He then grabbed a plate, and placed the noodles there. The tomato sauce was ready, and he placed it on top of the pasta. "Zhere, all done..." He said to himself, looking at the work he has done. Surprisingly, the pasta wasn't that big of a mess that he thought it would be.

He grabbed the plate of pasta in his hand, and went towards Veneziano's room. He opened it slowly, only finding Italy awake, looking outside the window next to him. Italy noticed the blond, and smiled. "Ve, hi Germany!" Italy smiled, and waved at him.

Germany chuckled, and went towards the Italian. "Here Italy, I made zhis just for-" Before he could finish his sentence, Germany tripped on a round ball of the ground which came out of nowhere, and lost balance.

"Scheiße!" Germany cursed loudly, falling down and the pasta flying in thin air. The German fell down, and grunte. "Ov..." He said, rubbing his bottom. "That hurt-" and the pasta came flying down to his face.

Italy eyes widened, and this time, surprisingly opened. He blinked, and looked how embarrassed the German was. A small smile came across his face. Then a small laugh. Italy was laughing.

Germany then became more embarrassed, whiched matched the color of the red sauce. "Germany, come here." Italy said, patting the side next to him. Germany got up from the floor, and went towards the Italian.

"I'm sorry, Italy..." Germany said, feeling guilty now and sitting down in the bed, "I vanted to do somezhing for you, but it became into a disaster..." Italy smiled, and laughed again softly.

North Italy then got some of the red sauce from Germany's lower lip with his finger, and licked it. This made Germany blush hard, and was about to protest, until Italy beat him to it. "The sauce is good!" Italy complimented him, "I can tell my fratello made it!"

Germany blinked, and a dust of pink came across his cheeks now. "Um... Ja..." Germany said, nodding. Italy smiled, and got a string of pasta out of Germany's slick hair.

"You made this, Germany?" Italy asked, examining the string. The German nodded, and blushed more. He was mess, and is embarrassing himself from his Axis friend. Some sauce dripped in Germany's military shirt, but he didn't care. Germany smiled lightly, and looked at the Italian.

_At least he looks better than before..._ Germany thought, smiling to himself, then blushing furiosuly. _I mean, at least Italy's fever wasn't bad as before... Ja... Zhat vhat I vas going to say... _The German corrected himself, feeling more embarrassed than before.

"Ve~ Thank you Germany..." Italy said, smiling at him, "I only tried the sauce, but I could tell you put a lot of effort in this..." Germany looked up to the Italian, smiled back, and nodded. "But... I'm still hungry..." Italy whined, and his stomach growled louder than before.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Germany exclaimed, getting up, "I have to make you more!" Germany then began to ran towards the door.

"Germany, wait! The-" Before Italy could finish his sentence, fell down again from the same round ball, "ball is still there..." He said after, now seeing a red mark on Germany's forehead since he fell faceplant.

Italy chuckled lightly, and saw the German going towars the kitchen, and making his favorite dish, the pasta. Italy chuckled nervously, and looked down at his Italian colored sheets. "He's going to mess up again..." Italy said himself, laughing lightly.

_The End_

_Extended Ending_

"So you got cured from your fever?" Romano asked, taking a sip from his Starbucks coffee. The two Italy brothers were in the outskirts of Venice, visiting the beautiful place. It was cold though, and so the both wore their winter clothes.

"Si!" Italy said happily, smoke coming out of his mouth when saying it. "Germany made me pasta, and I ate it, and I got all better after just a few hours!" Romano chuckled, and looked at the street in front of him.

"See? What did I tell you?" Romano asked, smirking at his younger brother, "The best way to cure an Italian with a fever is when you give them pasta..." Italy nodded, and looked into the sky.

"I wonder what Germany is doing..." Italy asked, placing his hands behind his back.

"Who knows? Maybe he's sick..." Romano said, sipping his coffee again. Italy turned his head to his older brother.

"I don't think so..." Italy said with a smile, "Germany is too strong to have a fever..."

_Somewhere in Germany..._

"ACHOO!"

"Jeez West, that is so unawesome." Prussia said, smirking at his younger brother, "Don't get me sick eizher." Germany glared at his brother, and sneezed again.

"Ugh, hov did I ever get a fever?" Germany asked, laying down in his bed. "I feel so light headed..." Prussia shrugged his shoulders, and took care of his litle brother.

And this is how you get a sick German, and curing an Italian with a fever.

**And here's the ending! Thank for reading this short story, and please review! And yes, if I misspelled anything in the last chapters or anything sounds wrong, please tell me and I will change it.**

**Thank you for reading this, if you want to know what Spain and Romano were up to, review and I might make it! See you soon! **

**~MoonlightStar400**


	4. Wurst Is His Cure!

**A/N: A little Spin-off from the last three chapters. This is like a small one-shot (or not), so I guess I'm going to call it like that. Hetalia doesn't belong to me, characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Enjoy this one-shot!**

**Wurst Is His Cure!**

Germany couldn't figure it out. How the holy fuehrer did he get sick? He was fine the other day and look at him now! He's guessing it has to be with Italy being sick, but he's not sure. Plus, he hated being sick because that meant he had to deal with his obnoxious excuse of a brother named Prussia.

"Here ya go, West!" Prussia exclaimed, placing a bowl of soup in front of the German, "I made chicken soup just for jou!" Germany looked down at the cuisine, and felt nauseous just looking at it. The liquid was fine, but the chicken noodles, good lord; they didn't look like chicken soup at all!

Germany grabbed the soup bowl, the spoon in the bowl, ready for it to be eaten. "Danke, bruder." Germany said, accepting the horrible cooking and began eating the soup.

"Don't have to zhank me," Prussia said, going over to the door, and soon closed it when he left. "England made the chicken soup for me." Germany's eyes widened and he soon spitted out the liquid in his mouth. Prussia began to laugh his obnoxious laugh.

"Kesesesese! Zhank goodness I'm not sick!" Prussia exclaimed, leaving the German by himself and shutting the door shut. Germany wiped his mouth, and placed the toxic soup on top of his drawer. Yup, this was not his day.

He had a fever of over thirty-nine Celsius, a bit better than Italy's. He had a sore throat, runny nose, and he couldn't move from his bed. But the reason he wants to know is: Why? Just three days ago he was taking care of the Italian, and now looked what happened.

Germany is still thinking that it probably has to do with the pasta that he made for Italy, since after the little incident with the first try, but he thought that couldn't be it. Germany was so deep in thought that he didn't hear someone ringing the doorbell.

Prussia raised an eyebrow as the familiar sound of the door bell rang loud and clear. "Vhat? Vho could zhat be?" Prussia asked, Gilbird on top of his head. He then went to the front door, and opened it. "Yes? Vhat do you vant?" Prussia asked, not looking who it was.

"Ciao, Prussia!" Italy exclaimed, smiling at the Prussian and holding up a container in his hands. Prussia then noticed it was the lovable Italian man, and he gave a sincere smirk to him. It was still pretty cold outside, and Italy was wearing his winter clothes.

"Oh, Italy! Vhat brings jou here?" Prussia asked, letting Italy in. Veneziano only smiled, and got into the toasty house. Italy then took off his jacket, and looked at the stairs that lead to Germany's room.

Italy was worried for the sick German, and thought that maybe making homemade cooking might make him feel better, but he isn't sure that it will help or not. "Ve, I brought this to help cheer Germany up." Italy said, holding up the container. "Can I go see him?" Prussia nodded, and let the Italian go upstairs to see his brother.

Germany was now coughing viciously, and his fever still getting higher and higher. "Ugh... How can this day get any vorse?" He asked to himself, as began to wipe his nose with a tissue.

"Hey Germany!" Italy said happily, waving his hand at the German once he opened the door.

"Of course..." The German muttered, turning his head to the right and felt that something was going to happen later. Italy smiled, while the German's older brother was behind him.

"Yo West! Looks like jou have a visitor!" Prussia exclaimed, "Vell then, zhat means I don't have to take of jou anymore!" Germany raised an eyebrow as his older brother began to walk away.

"Vhere are you going?" Germany asked, looking at him.

So did Italy, as they both saw Prussia leaving his room. "Have to bozher Austria. Later, unawesome bruder and Italy!" Prussia shouted, and closed the front door.

Italy heard the Prussian closing the door, and waited for Germany to say something. No one said a word. That is, until Italy spoke up. "It's nice seeing you again, Germany." Italy said shyly, a small heart forming on his curl.

Germany nodded, and crossed his arms. "Ja. So, anyzhing new happened vhen I vas not in your place?" Italy smiled, and sat down in the bed of the German.

"Yes. Once you left, fratello came in with big brother Spain and we all chatted. It was nice really, talking to people when you have a fever." Italy said, a small blush appearing his cheeks. "Then, once they left to go their places, I felt a lot better and made my own pasta for the evening."

Germany smiled, and chuckled at this. Yes, this Italian may love pasta, and talks a lot, but that's what Germany likes about him. "I made a really good one. I made it with the tomatoes that Spain brought in and when I was looking for pasta, I saw that someone brought in the entire collection! It was a miracle, Germany!"

This time, Germany stopped chuckling, and stared at the Italian. Though Veneziano took no notice and still began to talk. "It had macaroni, ravioli, and lots more! Now I can eat as much pasta as I want until Spring comes back again!"

Germany smiled, and touched Italy's hand. The auburn-haired man took notice of this, and stared at the blonde. "Germany?" He asked, looking at him with his eyes closed.

"Vhat's in the container?"

"Excuse me?"

"Zhe container, jou know, zhe one that you have in your hand." Germany said, pointing at the dish in Italy's other hand. Veneziano blushed, and smiled awkwardly at him.

"Oh, right. This was for you." Italy said, giving him the container. "I heard from the small meeting around Austria that you weren't present, and so I got worried. You were supposed to be in that meeting, but you weren't." Germany nodded at this, and remembered it clearly.

All the German speaking countries (Including Prussia), had to meet up in Austria to talk about their finances and how they could work together, but Germany wasn't there so the others to go on without him. "Ja, I told zhem I was sick..." The German said, nodding.

Italy sighed in relief, and opened the container slowly. "Then when I asked Mr. Austria what happened, he said that you were sick so I made you something."

The German looked over to Italy, his eyes widened. "Italy, you don't have to do zhat..." The German said, feeling his upper cheeks reddening. Italy just smiled, and showed him what was inside.

"I made you wurst." Italy said, showing him the almost burnt sausages. "It took me seven tries, and on the third time, I actually burned myself, but it was no deal really. I was surprised I could do this."

Germany felt his cheeks burn more, and look down at the almost perfect sausages. "Vell, you almost had it..." Germany tried to compliment to the Italian, and it worked a bit. Italy smiled, and looked down at the food as well.

"I hope you get better soon..." Italy said, "I was worried... I guess I gave you my fever..." Germany looked over to the Italian, and shook his head.

"Nein, it can't be zhat." Germany said, "It must've been somezhing else." Italy then looked at the German, and sighed.

"Yeah but... I feel like it was my fault you got the fever..." Italy said, looking down guiltily, "I was worried, Germany... When you didn't contact me when you got sick..." Germany felt bad now; his friend was worried for him.

"But now... Now that I see that you got a bit better, I feel happy." Italy said, smiling at the German, "I feel happy I could see your face again, Germany." The German now felt his whole face go red now, probably because of his fever and the embarrassment that was happening right now.

"Anyvays..." Germany said, shaking his head from the earlier thought, "Can I eat the wurst you made?" Italy nodded happily, and took out the fork that was in the container.

"Ve, is it okay that I can feed you?" Italy asked, smiling at the German with an innocent smile on his face. Germany, felt his cheeks burning up for the third time, nodded.

"Ja... I don't see vhat's zhe problem vith zhat..." Germany commented. Italy smiled, and plucked the wurst into the fork.

"Okay Germany, say ah..." Italy said, a small light blush appearing on his face as the fork went over to Germany's side. Germany did as he was told, and took a bite out of the wurst. As he began to chew and swallow it, Italy smiled. "Well? How is it?" Italy asked, waiting for his response.

Germany blinked, and looked up and down towards the half-eaten wurst and the Italian. "Did jou say jou made zhis?" Germany asked, disbelief in his eyes. Italy nodded, and was confused as Germany then had a thought on his head.

_Italy can cook my favorite dish... Mein gott... _Germany thought, shaking his head. _Nein! H-He can't be the person vho made zhat! It's too... Perfect... _With that, Germany face was all red again, and this time, it was the fever.

"Ah! Germany has a fever again!" Italy exclaimed, as he saw the sudden temperature of the German rising quickly. "I need to call somebody!" And with that, Italy almost called Japan, but Germany got to him before he did.

"Nein Italy... I'm fine..." Germany slurred out, coughing, "Just had a quick zhought, and vell, I guess it got the best out of me." Italy stopped what he was doing, and sniffed.

"Ve, don't scare me like that, Germany!" Italy whined, small tears forming around his closed eyes. "I was worried!" Germany chuckled, and shook his head lightly.

"You didn't answer my question..." Italy said, half-smiling, "So, how was it?"

"It vas..." Germany tried to think of a term of the food that the Italian made, and blushed, "Almost zhere."

"Ve? I thought I had it right this time..." Italy said, disappointment appearing in his voice. Germany smiled lightly, and breathed out.

"But it vas good..." Germany said afterwards, "Really good."

This time, the Italian smiled, and held on the German's arm. "Really Germany?" He asked, happy that his friend complimented him like that. Germany nodded, and smiled back.

"Ja."

Italy smiled, and wiped a small tear forming around his eye. "That's good..." Italy said. Germany nodded, and coughed lightly.

"I zhink I feel better..." Germany said, "I guess the wurst actually helped." Italy's face brightened up, and hugged the German.

"Yay! I cured Germany!" Italy exclaimed, smiling. Germany chuckled, and placed his hand on Italy's head.

"Zhen zhat means that you'll be having training early in the morning tomorrow." Germany stated, smirking lightly as then Italian pulled away from the German.

"No Germany! Training is just too much!" Italy whined. Germany laughed, and had a smile appearing his face. Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all...

**And here you go! I'm sorry if this wasn't what you expected, but I tried my best, I'm sorry. This was probably not a one-shot, and I feel bad. I'm sorry again. Please, if there are any mistakes please tell me, and I will change them. So I guess here you have it, the whole Cure thing with Germany and Italy! It has been a lot of fun, and now I will see what I can do next! **

**Ciao!**

**~MoonlightStar400**


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